Page 19 of Crossfire Creek Vengeance

Deacon exhaled slowly, something like frustration flickering across his face, but he didn’t argue. He didn’t push.

It didn’t make her feel any better.

“Look, the only thing that matters is that Wynn might have whatever info Lauren pulled Roman into,” she added. “It could be in his files. And if he exposes it…” She swallowed hard. “Roman could go down for it. And maybe me too.”

Deacon’s eyes softened, but she held up a hand before he could speak. “But I’m not giving you the details,” she repeated. “Not now. Not ever.”

It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t a challenge. It was a line. A boundary. One she couldn’t let him cross.

Deacon huffed. Not from anger but frustration. “Why the hell is Wynn doing this?” he muttered. “Why not just dump the secrets and come after all of you head-on? Why the games? Why the traps? Why the ambush?”

Jessa exhaled slowly, her chest tight. “I don’t know.”

She wished she did. God, she wished she had one clean, simple answer.

“I think…” She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I believe Wynn’s gone off the deep end. He’s not thinking clearly. He’s so grief-stricken, so twisted up by losing Lauren, he doesn’t want justice. He wants pain. He wants us to hurt. But… there’s something else.” She drew in a breath. “Wynn might not be acting alone.”

Deacon’s eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking Corbin is working with him.”

Jessa nodded, the world tilting slightly as the truth settled in her gut. “His timing. His attitude. His history. Corbin would love nothing more than to see me and Roman suffer. And if he could line things up so Wynn took the blame… it’s perfect for him. Secrets exposed, enemies taken out, and Corbin walks away clean.”

Deacon didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Didn’t try to soften it. He just nodded, slow and grim. “Yeah. Corbin could be that twisted.”

A cold wave slid down Jessa’s spine.

Because the moment Deacon said it aloud… she knew he was probably right. Wynn’s grief might’ve lit the match. But someone else, someone with motive, with resentment, with calculation, might have struck the spark.

Jessa rubbed her palms against her thighs, a restless motion she couldn’t suppress. “I’ve tried to talk to him, you know,” she murmured. “Wynn. About all of this. About Lauren. About us.” Her voice tightened. “He won’t speak to me. Won’t answer. Won’t even look at me when I try.”

“Then, maybe he’ll talk to me.” Deacon took out his phone, and she saw the text he composed to one of his deputies. Put an ABP out on Marty Wynn now. Lives in San Antonio, mid-50s, former employee of Strike Force. Current employer Creed Response.

Deacon had just hit send when her own phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out, thumb trembling just a little as she looked at the screen.

Shade. Brett.

A message flashed across the display. Need to meet. Now. At the all-night diner in Crossfire Creek. Alone.

“It’s Shade,” she let him know.

Deacon straightened immediately, eyes narrowing. “What does he want?”

“A meeting.” She swallowed. “He’s in Crossfire Creek. At the diner.”

Deacon muttered a curse under his breath.

Jessa didn’t waste a second. She typed fast, sending Roman a quick update. Shade wants to meet at the diner in Crossfire Creek. I’m going. She hit send.

Deacon stepped closer, bracing a hand on the chair beside her. “I’m coming with you.”

Jessa shook her head. “He said alone.”

“I don’t give a damn,” Deacon shot back. “This guy could have answers. Added to that, I’m not letting you walk into that diner without backup.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he was already shifting into sheriff mode.

“My jurisdiction,” he said, leveling her with a look she remembered far too well. “I’m going. End of discussion.”

Chapter Five